


All That We Could Be

by justbygrace



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First sentence prompt fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That We Could Be

"You have the lamest collection of movies." 

"Hey, do I come to your house and insult your movies? No? I didn't think so." Rose shook her head at her best friend, trying to infuse her tone with all of the irritation she didn't feel. She wanted to be mad at him (not because of his insults but because of everything else), but he was John, dorky, spiky-haired John, her best friend since grade school and she just...couldn't. 

"You've never been to my house," he pointed out with all the finesse of a giant teaching a toddler to walk. "And besides, I don't have any lame movies."

Choosing to ignore the bit about not being to his house, she rolled her eyes at him. "I bet you do though. I bet you own 'Notting Hill' and 'You've Got Mail' and 'Love Actually.'"

"I do not!" He argued, propping himself up on one arm and glaring at her. "And 'Love Actually' is a classic."

"You're a classic," she prodded the side of his leg with her toe, loving the fact that she could still wind him up even after all the years of their friendship.

"Two months, Rose Tyler! Two months! It is, it is hardly noticeable. A mere blink, a suggestion of time. It's not even a full year, not even six months! I hadn't even sat up on my own!" He sat up all the way now, warming to his subject before catching a glimpse of her barely contained mirth and collapsing backwards onto the bed beside her. "That's not fair how you can do that."

"It's almost too easy," she laughed, clapping her feet together in glee; anything to keep things normal between them.

"Anyway, your films are still lame," he said grouchily, the full effects of The Oncoming Pout visible on his face.

"So don't watch one then." Rose rolled away from him and sat up, suddenly needing the space between them. "I'm going to get a snack. Want something?"

The prospect of nibbles seemed to cheer him up considerably and he bounded out of the room ahead of her. For all that her mum claimed to hate her noisy, rambunctious, talkative friend, she did keep at least one cupboard stocked entirely for him and he knew it. Rose followed him more slowly, dragging her feet across the plush carpet. She had promised herself that things wouldn't be awkward between them, they just wouldn't. He was her friend and he didn't deserve her moroseness. Her forced smile turned genuine at the sight of him already seated on the counter, feet swinging as he happily devoured a banana.

"This is marvelous, Rose! You should have one!" he crowed at her, grinning at her happily around his mouthful of potassium.

"No, ta," she gave an exaggerated shudder. It was an old joke between them, her pretend hatred of his favorite fruit, and it helped to ground her a bit, to remind her why she was not going to upset the careful balance that was their friendship.

John shook his head at her, waving the banana peel for emphasis. "You underestimate the power of banana as always. Sad, I really thought you would have learned after all this time. Alas, I must not be as persuasive as I had thought. I really must work on that."

"May the force be with you," she quoted, sticking her head in the refrigerator and poking at the various contents. 

"And also with you," he responded automatically. It was a standard refrain between them, used as a greeting and a farewell, from somewhere in their pre-teen years when John's love for Star Wars and the religious services he had been dragged to had collided. He had said it accidentally one Sunday and had been almost excommunicated on the spot - at the time repeating it between them had been their two-fingered salute at the world, now it was a subtle reminder of all they had been through together.

"So." She leaned one hip against the counter and studied her yogurt in apparent distraction, "Did you decide who you're going to prom with?"

His heels rapped smartly against the wooden cupboards at her question and she raised an eyebrow at him. Jackie was never pleased if she was awoken from her mid-afternoon slumber. His brow was lowered in concentration, however, and he barely paid her warning look any attention.

"Erm, I haven't actually decided if I'm going or not," he said, swinging his heels again. "Really no need, know what I mean? Why? Who are you going with?"

"Not going? Why wouldn't you go?" She stared at him, forgetting to shush him. 

"Eh, just seems kind of silly. I mean, in a couple of months we're all going to be at uni and we'll probably never see these people again. Why should we get all dressed up and dance and take pictures and drink spiked punch to celebrate that?" His fingernails tapped out a steady rhythm on the counter as he spoke, betraying some slight nervousness that she couldn't quite understand.

She stared at him, trying to figure out what would make him - hands down the most lusted after male in their graduating class - decide not to attend prom. At last she thought she figured it out and even though it made her stomach roil slightly, she had to ask. "You asked someone and she said no, didn't you?"

"What?" He looked properly horrified at the thought. "No! I haven't asked anyone. Why? Who did you think I would ask?"

"Um, Reinette? Martha? Amy? River?" Rose ticked off the names on her fingers. "Lynda? Jabe?"

"No, no, no, no, no, and no," he shuddered. "Did you, um, did someone ask you?"

"Me? Well, yeah. Mickey and Jack and Adam." She blushed slightly. "All within twenty minutes of each other, if you can believe it."

It almost sounded like he muttered something along the lines of 'I can,' but it was swiftly covered up in a cough and then he spoke in a normal tone, "So, who are you going with then?"

"Oh, um, no one. I, uh, I said no." She looked away, extremely embarrassed and desperately wishing she hadn't brought this up. Who knew she was such a masochist?

"You did?" His voice cracked slightly and she looked up in surprise, watching as he cleared his throat and his hand went to the back of his neck, the strongest tell he had.

"Yeah, I mean, didn't really want to go with them," she said hurriedly and then spun away from him, shoving the yogurt back in the fridge and gesturing towards the living room. "Want to watch a film? Even if it is lame."

Her attempt to return the conversation to some sort of level ground failed spectacularly and he remained where he was, staring at her like she was one of his science experiments and he couldn't quite understand how she worked. Rolling her eyes, she forced a manic grin - not unlike some of his - and grabbed his hand, dragging her behind her and keeping up a steady flow of words.

"We don't have to watch a chick flick, you know. We could do action. Or Scy-fi. Or even horror, though not anything with torture, please. Even in the middle of the day I don't think I could handle that. Really, that last film you made me watch - what was it? The one with the chainsaw and those stupid teens in the woods? Anyway, that was just too much blood and gore. I mean, I have a strong stomach - stronger than you Mister-can't-even-deal-with-the-tunnel-of-terror-ride, but that was just too much needless violence." Aware that she was rambling in a way that shockingly resembled him, she cut herself off, plopping down on the couch and pulling his unresisting self down beside her. Mustering a grin, she gestured at the shelf of DVDs meaningfully. "So, what do you want to watch?"

"You." The answer that slipped from his mouth seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised her because his eyes went wide and she could read his fear of rejection clearly.

She stared at him, trying to remember what words were, some way to reassure him, but there was nothing forthcoming. She knew the silence was stretching too long, but still she couldn't summon speech. It was only when he made an attempt to stand and move away from her that she remembered she could still move. She used the grip she had on his hand to pull him back down and close the slight distance between them. Their noses bumped and their teeth clashed painfully, but then his lips were moving against hers and she slipped one hand into his hair - his gloriously perfect hair - to tilt his head to a more perfect angle and she forgot they were in the middle of her living room, forgot that she was nervous, forgot everything that wasn't the feel of John's lips and his tongue questing against the seam of her lips. 

It was only the loudly cleared throat of Jackie Tyler that had them springing apart, well, attempting to, his grip on her hand appeared to be a death grip and she didn't get very far from his side.

They both stared up at her mum, unsure of what she was going to say or do, and she stared back at them for a long moment, hands on her hips before her whole posture relaxed and she chuckled. Rose and John exchanged concerned glances, a laughing Jackie Tyler could be just as deadly as an angry one.

"I hope that was your way of asking my daughter to the prom, young man," she finally spoke, waving her finger in John's face.

"Ye-yeah, I mean, yes ma'am. I mean, if she wants. I mean-" John stuttered to a halt as Jackie swooped in and kissed his cheek loudly.

Jackie straightened up and beamed at them both. "Bout time too. I made shepherd's pie for dinner and I expect both of you to still be here."

It wasn't until she left the room that Rose slumped backwards on the sofa in relief and then she realized that John wasn't similarly resting. Indeed he looked even more uncomfortable.

"John?" she said uncertainly, afraid he was going to run for sure now.

"You did, that is, you want, I mean, if you want you could, erm...prom?" he finished desperately, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

She laughed then, a hearty laugh of relief, knowing they could survive this shift in their friendship. Sitting up, she pressed her lips to his, quick and chaste. "That was a yes, Spock."

He made a delighted noise before leaning back in to recapture her lips.


End file.
